Taking Responsibility
by yamishun
Summary: He chose him because he was a responsible being. It's basically my interpretation of pre-colonial America and England.


**a/n:** I'm back with another USUK! Well, sort of~ haha... I typed this on my phone out of boredom a few months back. It was only now that I had the initiative to type it out and post it. I do warn you for the blatant grammar errors and running sentences.

**disclaimer:** Not mine. It's Himaruya Hidekazu's. If it were, I'd make England's life less... pitiful...

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Little America was used to the wilderness. He was used to the relative calm brought by the blowing winds and rustling of nature. He knew how different the weather of certain parts of the land are, how the green that stretched past what his eyes could make out would thin out until it turned to the color of the earth, a shade of brown that clashed with the blue skies. The vast land fascinated him, and it was because he _felt_ that he knew about the lands, felt it with every pump of blood in his veins, he continued to experience it firsthand without restraint. But as much as how the lands piqued his interest, he still preferred the wildlife that roamed the lands. He liked the small furry rabbits, their floppy ears and general tameness. But he also like the buffaloes. They were loud and their bodies were much sturdier. Perfect for the immense strength he possessed. It was hard not to notice that he was different, having witnessed how some village men struggle so much to capture a buffalo in vain while he, a mere foot of those fully grown males, could so easily lift - _throw_ if he so wished - the poor animal single-handed, like it was a pebble on the ground. The settlements he saw had beliefs and practices that unnerved him. It was the main reason why he never let himself be known to them, in fear of the nature spirits - creatures he was not fond of because of their appearance - they so often called out. An old tree with a face and movable branches was not the ideal look for a friendly entity, especially with the reasoning of a child like him.

It had been a fair day when he first laid eyes on two interesting people, apart from the ones he saw a few months back. The new faces were accompanied by the kinder-looking of the first two people he allowed himself to be seen. They looked at him with eyes filled with mirth, smiles adorning their faces while they spoke in a language different from the village people but he could somehow understand.

"There is no room for further excuses France! One look at the young lad and it is quite obvious that he inherited his looks from me. He is my brother!" exclaimed the man with short, choppy blonde hair.

"What blasphemy are you talking about, _Angleterre_? Is it not obvious that we share the same color of eyes? He is a brother of _moi_!" the other man, his shoulder length blond curls flowing exquisitely with the soft blows of the wind, as he spoke.

They continued to engage in a heated exchange of words, the next set much harsher and louder than the last. Little America shrank inside the bush his head emerged on. He felt confused and distressed with the way the new comers acted. He shot a pleading look on the man, whose name was supposedly Finland according to the fearsome man with the metal contraption near his eyes, and Finland nodded at him.

"Ah, do you think he resembles me at some point?" Finland asked, his voice as cheerful as ever. The question seemed to throw the other two (they called each other England and France) off and almost instantly they waved off the similarity of physical structure in favor of emotional attachment.

The succeeding times when England and France _'visited'_ him, they fought - physically and verbally - until it was time to withdraw to fight another day. In all honestly, little America had started to fear them. He dreaded each day all too familiar ships docked on the land. But still, he continued to show himself and watch, for they were fighting about him. He was a responsible child, therefore, he will not run away even if the tremors shook his small body and the tears welled in his eyes. When the two finally took notice of his trembling frame they stopped and decided to settle things in the quickest possible way.

"We shall let him decide, _frog_!"

"You took the words right out of my mouth, you _scoundrel_!"

They looked at him expectantly as they made their way towards him. Their presence was daunting, especially the one named England. He had an air of power, and the way he moved was so overwhelmingly authoritative. America unconsciously took small steps back. England was the first to speak to him, hands outstretched as if to hold the scared boy.

"Come now _love_, let me share with you the mysteries of the earth!" The poor babe bawled and cried his lungs out at the baritone of England's voice. He didn't want further encounters with the spirits of the earth. He didn't want to see disfigured men and animals that roamed the lands nor did he want to understand them. He was scared! And he was just a little boy! No matter how responsible he is, he didn't want to make the supernatural his burden.

France, who looked older and more difficulty dressed, chided England. He too, looked scared, close to tears because it (and England himself) was really too fearsome.

"Come here, _mon petite lapin_!" he cooed, "I have delicious French cooking right here just for you!"

America stopped crying and looked at France, who smiled with a glint in his eyes that slightly unnerved the boy. It was a look that told of a confidence in winning something of value. That however, did not deter the boy's fascination on the food that appeared to sparkle, beckoning him to have a taste. He inched closer. Closer... closer still... until he was a mere arm's length from the delectable image of what he recognized as meat. He was about to reach for the food when soft sobs reached his ears. He averted his gaze to find the source when his eyes landed on the suddenly gloomy England. America let his gaze linger on England's hunched form. The man looked so pitiful as he sat on the ground, face hidden behind his arms as sobs escaped his lips. America's eyes started to sting at the image. He didn't know why but he felt that he was the cause of the tears that may as well be falling from the grown man's eyes. He felt something tug at his heartstrings as he continued to stare at the man that is now less intimidating. Was he afraid to lose to France that much? He quickly made his way towards the Englishman, pausing when he could reach out to grab a sleeve. He swallowed and let the pearly tears that hung on his lids to get bigger before he finally grasped the fabric of England's shirt, asking a soft, "Are you alright?" with his tiny voice.

England peered at him from behind his arms, his green eyes reflecting surprise. He looked slightly disoriented, as if he didn't understand why the boy was there and not with France (who backed away in disbelief and utter disappointment). England let one of his hands drop to the ground, "I..." Little America smiled at the vulnerability and sincere relief from the older man. He tugged at the hand before he made himself comfortable on England's lap. Yes, this was fine. He made England cry so he had to be good

"E-Engwand~!" he chirped, smiling wider as he grabbed both sleeves and pulling it toward him until both arms encircled him.

"Don't worry, Engwand! You can be rest assured! I'll take responsibility!"

_xx end xx

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**a/n:** I'm originally not that fond of Alfred. I thought he's loud and borderline obnoxious (I still think he is XD) but when I saw chibimerica... I squealed. He's so cute! I knew that someday I'll write a fic with him as a major character~ who knew it'll be spawned from a day that was so boring, I actually bothered to type my thoughts on my phone! I could totally extend this to that one prompt in hetalia-kink but I decided against it because the content from above is just... far from what the op!anon wanted.

**p.s.** the prompt I was supposed to connect with this is: US/UK, with the latter crying during sex, and America, being the hero, doing everything in his power to comfort his grief-stricken lover.


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